


Poco a poco

by canardroublard



Series: Crescendo poco a poco [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Height Differences, Humor, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, because Jyn swears a lot, graphic depictions of music, m rating is mostly for language, no knowledge of classical music required to read, not much though I promise, oops there's a bit of angst, sexy viola playing, terrible classical music dad jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-10 11:56:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10437243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canardroublard/pseuds/canardroublard
Summary: Former child prodigy Jyn Erso's first year at Yavin School of Performing Arts would be going so much easier if she wasn't stuck with violist Cassian Andor as a duet partner. She also wishes he'd stop being so distractingly handsome. That would be great.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No knowledge of classical music (or indeed music in general) should be required to this fic, which should read like pretty much any other university AU if you don't know classical music. Everyone is a university student who just happens to be studying music performance or composition. There are some music terms referenced, but understanding them is not important to the heart of this story, which is to say some delightful Jyn/Cassian romance. However, all of the classical music references contained herein are real to my experience, and will hopefully add a bit of extra amusement for fellow musicians. Also, I make no apologies for casting aspersions about composition majors.

 

 

 

> **Poco a poco** (It.). By degrees; lit. little by little; as in, _Rall. poco a poco_.
> 
> _The Student's Pronouncing Musical Dictionary,_ by Leon Aubry
> 
>  

Jyn, in her defense, is not exactly _late_ for class.

She's just not very early. Music theory doesn't technically start for another (damn it she keeps forgetting to switch her watch to this new time zone which means it's off by...) three minutes. Three minutes to get to Theory 2100. Or at least to get to the room where she thinks Theory 2100 is being held. The Yavin School of Performing Arts had seemed much easier to navigate when she'd been on the new students tour yesterday. Also, who designed this school with so many bloody stairs? She's just rounding the corner to tackle the next set, feeling only slightly embarrassed by how much she's panting after the past three flights, when she bodily _slams_ into someone and isn't that exactly what her day needed right now. For fuck's sake.

"Sorry, I'm late for theory," she says, hoisting herself off of the dark-haired man who is now crumpled against the wall, groaning slightly. She notices the case in his arms. "Oh shit, your violin -"

"Viola, actually," he says with the sigh of someone who knows he should give up trying to correct people on this issue but keeps on doing so out of pure bloody-mindedness. Grabbing her proffered hand to pull himself back up (wow, he's pretty tall), he continues. "It's fine. Theory 2100?"

"Yeah."

"You're going the wrong way. It's down a floor," He seems to take her in for the first time, frowning down at her slightly. "I'm going there now, you can follow me." She's only a teeny tiny bit distracted by the way his hair flops over his forehead when he turns away to start down the stairs. "So, what are you?"

"Piano," Jyn says, falling into step beside him. The man's head bobs, nodding to himself as if she's just confirmed a hunch.

"No instrument with you, and most vocalists aren't so," he makes a circling gesture with the hand not holding his viola case, searching for a word, "scrawny."

"Um, thanks?" _Scrawny?_ Fortunately she's spared the pressure of further response when he pushes open a door and gestures brusquely for her to go in first. The small lecture hall is mostly full, with about thirty students sprawled in their seats, pulling tiredly at their Starbucks cups. 9 a.m. classes are hell. Jyn slides into the nearest available seat at the back, but her new acquaintance begins walking down to the front of the room.

"Ah, Mr. Andor," says the professor in a tone of such condescension that Jyn can already definitively state that she does not like him. "Glad you could finally join us."

"Sorry Professor Draven," the man, whose name is apparently Mr. Andor, says. "Professor Îmwe wanted to discuss my repertoire for this year before classes started, and I had to help-" He stops then and turns, blinking, back to where Jyn has tried to settle in as inconspicuously as possible, staring up at her as if he's finally realized that he was too busy calling her scrawny to actually get her name (or give his, for that matter) like a polite human being. Before she can put him out of his misery, Draven interrupts.

"You have decided to grace us with your presence after all, Jyn Erso," the man scoffs. She wants to punch him in the dick. "I wasn't sure whether to trust the rumours." Before she can let loose a few choice words which would certainly have gotten her expelled on her very first day here, Draven's face wrinkles into a bulldoggish scowl.

"Both of you, take a syllabus. Don't be late again." He turns back to the board. "As I was just explaining to the students who showed up on time, this class will be focusing on musical analysis."

Goddammit.

* * *

 

Finding Bodhi in the canteen after class is such a relief that Jyn nearly cries. He gives her a bright (Bodhi is always so bright) smile and waves her over.

"Everyone keeps whispering and staring at me," she says, "I half expect someone to yell 'Pay five p. to see Jyn Erso, former child prodigy!' like I'm a circus freak."

Bodhi's face sinks. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. I didn't tell anyone, but one of the professors must have let it slip last week."

"Probably Draven. He's odious," she says and Bodhi has the nerve to snort at her.

"I thought you might not like him," he replies, gesturing around the dank, concrete room with his fork. "Most people don't."

"We're spending the entire semester just doing analysis! I hate analysis," Bodhi actually smiles at her outrage. She liked him so much better when they were young and he was scared of her because she was the daughter of Galen Erso, world famous violinist.

"Draven's tough. But he knows his stuff and he wants everyone to succeed." Chewing thoughtfully, he adds, "Even if he doesn't show it."

Bodhi's ability to see the good in everyone is positively infuriating sometimes. He is also patient, to his credit, and lets her launch into a long rant, nodding and making appropriate noises of sympathy. She loves this about him. When she begins to run out of steam he prods her to eat. "You'll need to keep your strength up. You've got your private lesson after this, right?"

"Yes, assuming I don't get lost trying to get to this one too."

Bodhi's assurances that Professor Malbus is much more understanding are a small comfort. "He's okay, you'll be fine. How'd you find theory?"

"Some violist. Andor. I bumped into him on the way to class." She doesn't need to tell Bodhi the details of how literal the bumping was.

"Oh, so you've met Cassian?"

"Yep. He called me scrawny. Nice guy."

Bodhi just shakes his head. Her phone chirps.

**_Incoming call from JYN DON'T ANSWER THIS_  
**

She thumbs the decline call button while Bodhi continues.

"He _is_ nice, Jyn. And you are scrawny."

* * *

She may not know anyone at Bodhi's start of semester party, but there's lots of beer and when you really think about it, beer can be a pretty good friend so it's really almost the same thing as actually knowing people. And yeah, so maybe she's lurking in the corner like a total loser, but at least she's managed to be the only woman in the room who's successfully avoided being hit on by God's Gift to Music, Han Solo. Why are all the trumpet players she knows such overconfident tossers?

The tiny flat is packed with music students celebrating the fact that classes inexplicably began on a Friday this year. She scans the room to see if Bodhi is free enough that she can go harass him in lieu of meeting new people. Bodhi, who is just sickeningly nice sometimes, well, all the time, has instead taken pity on the blond guy who was in her tour group with his twin sister. Luke something? All she remembers is that he's an oboist and his sister plays horn, and Jyn remembers the latter fact only because the woman's twisty side-bun hairdo looks like she has two French horns (minus the bells) stuck onto her head. It's nice when people make things easy to remember.

"You are Jyn Erso," says a voice unnervingly close to her ear. She jumps slightly and glances around to discover a towering blond man who is staring owlishly at her. Why does she always attract the weirdos at parties?

"You are the reason Cassian was late for Theory 2100."

Apparently she's meant to say something now? "Yeah. I mean, he was late anyways," she corrects, feeling suddenly defensive. This guy just keeps _staring_ at her like she's some exotic species of insect that he might want to pin to a board and study if he were motivated enough to do so, but he can't be bothered so he's about to squash her instead out of vaguely malicious indifference and what the _fuck_ is with the male students of this school? God.

"No, he was not," he says primly. Good lord, she's not even going to make it through her first day here without starting a fight. Bodhi won't be surprised. "Cassian is a conscientious student. If you had not assaulted him and then solicited his assistance, he would not have been late."

Jyn wonders if she could jump high enough from a standstill to just start throttling him now or if she'd have to ask him to crouch down first.

"Hey, listen, you knob, he said-"

"Kay, where have you been?" A hand parts the wall of people boxing in her corner and of course it's Cassian because the universe hates her and will not let her alone long enough to get properly soused while sulking in a corner like the well-adjusted adult that she is.

 "I have been getting to know"  (Oh, that's what this is?) "Jyn Erso, the women whom you spent at least thirty percent of our lunch break talking about."

Cassian actually _flushes_ at that. She can see it start at his cheeks and disappear into the neck of his t-shirt and she cannot contain the grin that overtakes her while he tries to verbally dodge that particularly interesting pronouncement.

"I wasn't - it wasn't that much!" He clears his throat slightly. "Kay, Threepio wants to talk to you about tone clusters. He's thinking of using them in his next piece, the one he's writing for his recital." And thank God, that actually works, sending Kay off grousing about how he is about to save Threepio from making a horrible mistake. "Sorry about him," Cassian says. "He means well. He's John Kay, by the way. Everyone just calls him Kay though."

"He's studying composition?"

"Yes."

"Well, that explains," she uses her free hand to indicate broadly the direction in which Kay had just left, "everything. Does no-one around here remember how to introduce themselves?" she grumbles and is rewarded when Cassian ducks his head awkwardly.

"Han seems to have it figured out,"' he says, gesturing over to where the lanky man is indeed making the acquaintance of yet another pretty girl. She can't tell for certain from across the room but it looks like what's-her-name, Horn Buns. Luke's sister. Cassian interrupts her thoughts before she can make a definitive identification. "Should we try again?" and he's gazing down at her with kind brown eyes that peek out from under his fringe of hair (it looks  _so_ soft) and pulling her hand into his gentle, warm grasp and oh shit she is in _trouble_.

"Cassian Andor." He looks positively miraculous when he grins at her.

Shit shit shit.

 

* * *

The thing Jyn likes most about Professor Malbus, Baze, as he insists she call him, is that he is one of the few professors she's had who is able to look past what a complete disaster her life is at the moment and just focus on music. He's not one for small talk, doesn't scold her too much for being late, and has also had absolutely zero comment on her semi-famous upbringing. They just talk music and that is something she can do for days.

"The left hand in measure twenty-eight sounds much better this week," he says, squinting at her score slightly from his amusingly homey armchair. The entire office looks like it was designed by an extremely aged man who was mostly concerned with being warm enough; big armchair, throw blankets, a space heater tucked under his tiny desk. It's delightful. "You need to get a better edition of the score, I don't know how you read this. It's Chopin, you know well enough to get the Paderewski."

She winces. He's got her there.

"Sorry, Baze. The Paderewski edition is quite expensive and when I bought this book..." She's not poor per se, but admitting that she couldn't scrape up enough money to buy anything better than the cheapest edition of Chopin's nocturnes still feels vaguely like she's failed at something. And no way in hell would she have crawled back to Saw or her father to ask for the money. He cuts off her excuses with a raised hand.

"It's fine." He absently nudges his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You can obviously read all of the notes well enough, everything sounds correct. Mind the dynamics in measure forty-five, though." His notes about her right hand fingering during the same measure are interrupted by a few knocks at the door, which is opened after Baze grunts something that sounds like "hmm?" The puckish face of the string professor, Chirrut Îmwe, pokes around the door frame.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"If I said yes, would you go away?" Baze asks with a huff.

"No, but I would feel bad about staying," Chirrut says, stepping into the room with a grin. "Hello Jyn," he greets her. She's not entirely sure what his vision is like, but after a couple weeks of Chirrut roaming the halls with his white cane, yet identifying her before she speaks, her best guess is that he has at least some functional sight. "Have you found an ensemble partner yet?"

"I'm doing the Britten cello sonata with Bodhi," she says, kicking herself as soon as she finishes the sentence because Chirrut is Bodhi's teacher for God's sake, he knows that already. "Um, but haven't found anyone for the second ensemble, no." Which is something she should probably fix. She'd been talking about teaming up with Leia but then the horn player ended up doing orchestra and also forming what Jyn understands to be an incredibly argumentative quartet with Han, Luke, and Chewie. So Leia was not an option anymore.

Chirrut smiles in Baze's direction, then, and Jyn's teacher lets out a little grunt. "Chirrut, stop pestering my students. The department does give you a budget for accompanists." It's rather sweet of Baze to stick up for her considering that her teacher had been prodding her to hurry up and find a second ensemble for at least the past week.

"Aren't they called 'collaborative pianists' now?" Chirrut says wryly. "Why hire someone when Jyn needs the ensemble credit as much as Cassian does?"

"Cassian?" she says. Oh, hell no. She's been doing a great job of avoiding Cassian and his annoyingly perfect face and the way he makes her stomach feel all fluttery whenever he smiles. Her history with personal relationships in general has been nothing short of a train wreck and romance has been no better; she cannot deal with whatever _that_ is right now. She is barely holding her life together as it is. Conveniently enough it turns out that theory is the only class they have together this semester and with Cassian spending all of his free time with Kay it's been easy to carry on pretending that he doesn't really exist. Suits her fine.

"He's still looking for someone to do Brahms' second viola sonata," Chirrut says after a brief pause. "The piano part would suit you, Jyn." Baze is now looking at her appraisingly over the top of his glasses.

"It would be a good fit to round out your rep. Unless you have an alternate suggestion?"

Bugger. Well, looks like she's going to be dealing with whatever _that_ is a lot more from now on.

 

* * *

 

Cassian, it would seem, is no more enthusiastic about their arrangement than she was. She's not sure whether to feel relieved or offended by that. He more or less throws the piano score at her while rushing out of theory class, not even making eye contact, and texts her a perfunctory "7 pm thurs?" to arrange a practice time. Well, fine.

She wanders down to the practice rooms at 6:45, actually early for once in her life. It's mostly thanks to Bodhi's constant nagging today, but Jyn will still happily take the credit. Leia is practicing her Mozart horn concerto in the first closet-like room on her right, fighting with a fiddly scale passage. Walking a few doors further she can hear an oboist, possibly Luke, working on some piece she can't identify. Jyn turns the hall corner and smiles when she sees that practice room sixteen, the only one with a grand piano, is unoccupied. Clearly it's her lucky day. The magnificent old Bösendorfer sits in the dark room, hunkering awkwardly in the tiny space which offers room for little else apart from the monster piano, a dented music stand into which someone has scratched the word 'butts', and a plastic chair. The piano's humidifier unit winks coyly at her from where it snuggles against the underside of the keyboard, green light confirming that the instrument is being kept happy. Jyn mentally greets the piano with a _hello, old girl_ as she sits on the wooden bench.

Her phone chirps when she turns it back on, intending to see if Baze has emailed her about her rep for the next recital.

**_1 missed call from JYN DON'T ANSWER THIS_ **

**_1 new voicemail_ **

Not such a lucky day after all. Bollocks. She dismisses the notifications and deletes the voicemail before stuffing her phone back into her bag and turning back to the keyboard.

 _Do not think about him._ Her heart is racing, readying her for a fight that she is definitely not having tonight. As she's always done, she turns to music to calm her anger.

Midway through Jyn's first set of warmup scales, Cassian bustles into the room, throwing his coat onto the chair and looking nearly as disheveled as Jyn normally feels. There are dark circles beneath his eyes and he appears even less shaven than usual. Jyn chooses to helpfully point this out to him.

"You look like shit." Okay, possibly not the best way to deal with him at the moment. No-one has ever accused Jyn of being good with people.

Cassian rolls his eyes at her and retrieves the score from his bag with what appears to be far more force than should be required. "Have you practiced at all, or are you too busy getting lost?"

That clearly does not merit a response. Learning the finer details of whatever stick has lodged itself up Cassian's behind is something she has neither the patience nor interpersonal skills to pursue. She'd almost thought that doing this piece with Cassian might not be so bad after all, but if he's going to spend the entire semester being a miserable sod she will regret this. He sighs then, flicking his gaze briefly in her direction before turning back to his viola case, tightening the bow strings with a few precise swivels of his wrist.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "It's been a long day." God, Jyn has had days like that. She can forgive him being a bit snippy with her now.

Hell, she's had _years_ like that.

"Need an A?" she offers.

He nods before tucking his viola under his chin and beginning for the comforting ritual of tuning. After the standard twisting of knobs and frowning, he finishes by checking his work with three quick bow strokes that cause the viola's strings to harmonize in perfect pairs. Meeting her gaze, he stands, statuesque, bow-arm held slightly aloft, patiently awaiting her count in.

"One, two, three, four."

It's probably a good thing that the first line of the piano part is relatively simple because she barely prevents herself from stopping and _gaping_ at Cassian when he starts playing. She's accompanied people before; played with not merely good but exceptionally talented musicians whom she knew through Saw; actual professionals who had made it past the ever-tightening gauntlet of critique to become some of the rare few on the planet who could be full-time performers because people would pay good money to hear them play. So the experience of sharing good music with people is nothing new. And yet...

Cassian is _extraordinary_. The first high note of the piece rings from his viola, delicate, bell-like, for a moment before he dips softly to the note below, then above, then does a little turn back downwards. He leans sumptuously into the next lingering note, making it warble with a rich vibrato, then deftly slips down again to coax the low D through a breathless sigh. The effect of his playing sparks through her like electricity.

She'd known he was handsome ever since their re-acquaintance at Bodhi's party, but this?

She dares to peek up at him. His eyes are half-hooded, lips pursed, caught in the thrall of the music. Her eyes are drawn to the slender fingers of his left hand, fluttering back and forth in a rapid vibrato against the finger board, balanced firmly between his thumb and the tip of his pinkie.

This is a whole different _level_ of attraction. Her stomach swoops as he gracefully steps back up by broken octaves. In her distraction she completely botches the simple B-Flat seventh chord that had presented no problems when she was practicing this piece on her own. Crap. She fixes her gaze on the score in front of her, manages to correctly land the next set of chords, get the next couple measures out. The piece builds to a natural pause and she slows ever so slightly in anticipation, giving it the faintest hint of rubato, and to her amazement Cassian matches her tempo change perfectly, drawing out the melody with tender sensuality.

She is _screwed_.

Knowing that the first genuinely tricky bit of the piece is rapidly approaching for her, and messing up this solo would be nothing short of completely embarrassing, she tries her best to let Cassian's playing fade into the background and focus on her own part. She even manages to do a decent job on the sweet little left hand melody that comes next. The piece swells in crescendo to a loud forte which she punctuates with a quick staccato hit, then she launches into the short, punchy piano solo, trying to lend it as much vigour as she can muster while still hitting all of the difficult octave spans correctly. Apart from misplaying one of the big chords it goes well and she does her best to imbue the burst of piano with plenty of fire. Cassian rejoins the action with a bright, high note as she steps both of her hands towards each other with the quick set of broken chords.

They work through the first few pages of the piece with a tolerable amount of mistakes for a first run-through until they hit a section with is tricky for both instruments and simultaneously self-destruct. She bursts out laughing when they both stop, giddy and thrumming with the pure joy of _music_.

"You're pretty good!" Cassian says warmly. She glances up at him. He's looking down at her, grinning, eyes sparkling, viola dangling in hand. God, he's gorgeous.

"Yeah, not bad yourself!" she says in the understatement of the century.

 

* * *

 

 

_"Hi Jyn, it's me. Look, I know you don't want to talk, but please call Saw back at least? He's worried enough about you to actually call me, that should tell you just how concerned he is.  I'm going to be in town for a concert, um, sometime in December. Doing some Handel and Telemann. You know me, I always go for baroque. Like 'broke'? Yeah, that was bad, your mother never laughed at that one either. Anyways, um, so I know this is a work trip, but I would have come sooner if I thought you wanted to see me. I would love to catch up while I'm there, even just a brunch. Please, Stardust. Oh, and say hi to Bodhi for me."_

She knows it's a mistake every time she does it, but she seriously needs to stop listening to her father's messages. It just makes her angry. If he had wanted to be a part of her life, he should have made an effort back when it was just the two of them, before she ended up living with Saw by default because at least he was around more often than a couple nights a week. Maybe things could be better now that he's stopped spending all of his time holed up in some studio making weird post-tonal music with Krennic, but the years of sitting at the window waiting for someone who was not coming home still rankle.

"Everything okay?" Bodhi asks, glancing at her with a creased brow from where he sits on the other couch in the student lounge. He's been chewing his pencil again, despite trying to kick the habit for good this year. When Jyn stares pointedly at the mangled piece of stationery Bodhi spits it out guiltily and starts spinning it between his long fingers instead. "What do you think about Stockhausen's process music? For my history paper?"

"Yeah, that could work. The early choral stuff?" Bodhi hums in confirmation. Jyn looks down, away from him. "My dad says hi."

She's staring at her phone and doesn't see Bodhi's reaction to this, but she can just sense him still for a moment.

"Thanks." He pauses. "How is your dad?"

Apart from being a total bastard?

"He's fine. He's coming here for a concert. In December." Jyn manages to look back up at Bodhi now and that was a mistake. He's staring at her like she's an overfull balloon that could pop at any second. Damn. "It's okay, Bodhi," Christ, he needs to stop looking at her like that. "He wants to get brunch. That'll be fun, right? You're doing it again." Bodhi retracts the pencil from his lips with a frustrated growl, tapping it against his thigh. "I'm fine, I swear. If he actually shows up I'll just say I'm too busy with exams."

"Jyn..."

"Don't. Bodhi, please, just leave it."

Bodhi just shakes his head, turning back to his note pad with what she knows is disapproval. Her dad has always been Bodhi's idol, always left him a little awestruck, wishing she could see Galen the way he does. Or maybe that's not it. Bodhi has seen what her father's inconstant presence did to her, he knows that she was all but abandoned. Surely he's not forgotten that? Maybe Bodhi is just that nice and he is honestly able to forgive people for things. Forgiveness is not one of Jyn's strengths. Despite being almost pathetically self-deceptive, she knows this much about herself.

"How're things with Cassian?"

"What do you mean, _things with Cassian_?" She bristles. She does not have a _thing_ with Cassian.

"The Brahms," Bodhi says as if she's particularly soft in the head today.

"Oh, that. It's fine. Good. We're working on the second movement." She very deliberately fails to mention how she nearly died this morning because Cassian leaned over her at the piano to point out that the decrescendo in measure 109 should start forte rather than mezzo forte and his hand was resting on her shoulder like that's a completely normal thing that they do and he smelled _amazing_. Bodhi doesn't need to know that, right? Why would he? It's not like she's been thinking about the warmth of Cassian's hand through her shirt, the faint puff of his breath over the back of her neck, the rumble of his voice _right next to her ear_. Was that a normal distance for...that sort of thing? It felt close. Like, really close. And he _smiled_ at her when she looked up. So yeah, it's not like she's been replaying that moment in her head every thirty seconds for the past eight hours. And it's definitely not a thing that she's talking about with people. Other people. Or herself.

_Fuck._

 

* * *

 

She's going to murder him. Tomorrow headlines will read "Bright young pianist kills absolute fucking shithead of a violist in the most justifiable homicide ever." Parades will be held in her honour. Future generations of school children will write reports detailing her heroism in defending Brahms' second viola sonata from being turned into a funeral dirge. Maybe she'll be given some kind of medal.

"It's _andante_ , Jyn," says the dead man, jabbing at her score with the tip of his bow. "Andante is slower!"

"Andante means 'walking pace' you wanker! And-"

"I know that! It's-"

"-besides, it's andante _con moto_ _!_ Con. Moto!"

"Andante is not a fast tempo! How can you possibly justify-"

" _Con moto!_ Do I seriously need to explain this to you?"

"I know what it means! Spanish and Italian-"

"'With motion'! That's what it means, Cassian! Con moto! _With motion!_ "

"That doesn't mean you need to play it like you're late for class again!" he shouts.

So. Dead.

"Okay, first off," she starts, standing up from the piano bench to stop him from towering over her. Or at least to make him tower over her less. Damn him for being so pointlessly tall. "Who the hell taught you anything about music? Because you need to track them down and get your money back. Secondly, it was only the one-"

"Jyn!" There's something in his tone now that makes her stop dead. He looks _furious_. She stares him down, unwilling to give a single inch.

"Jyn." And now he has gone from shouting to deadly, quietly serious. It's so much worse. She can _see_ him shaking with anger. "Do not _ever_ question my education again. Not all of us have had the privilege of growing up around people who actually gave a damn about music, let alone having a father who's one of the world's best musicians." He obviously has never met her father if he thinks she did much 'growing up around' him. "I worked hard to get here," he continues, "to get into this school. I work hard to stay here. I will not let you ruin this piece just because you think you're smarter than everyone else."

He's out of the room before she can even begin to formulate a response to _that_. She should really get at least a small medal for not chasing him out into the hallway.

 

* * *

 

"Hello, Jyn."

He just _knows_. She has no clue how he knows it's her from all the way down the hall, but he does and while she's used to it now, it occasionally still puzzles her.

"Hello Professor Îmwe," she says, walking up to him. "How was your weekend?"

"How many times must I ask you to call me Chirrut?" he says lightly. Her last school was significantly more strict and _very_ British compared to Yavin. Calling professors by their first names just feels wrong. "It was good. I took Baze for a hike in the forest. Considering that he's not the blind one, he gets lost surprisingly easily," he continues with a chuckle. Clearly there's a story to be had if she felt familiar enough to ask for it. "And how was your weekend? Did Bodhi throw another one of his parties?"

"No, that's this weekend coming," she says. "It was okay. I finished up the analysis for Professor Draven."

"That Bach was in need of a good analyzing. I'm sure you set it straight."

"Yeah," she laughs. She's about to make her excuses and turn away when she reconsiders. "Prof- Chirrut?"

"Yes?"

"Have you spoken with Cassian recently? About the Brahms?"

Chirrut's milky eyes search her face for a moment. "I have," he says simply. He's going to make her work for this.

"Did he say anything to you about the tempo? For the third movement?"

Chirrut chuckles slightly. "Yes, Cassian had a lot to say about the tempo of the third movement. He was quite impassioned at our lesson this morning."

Shit.

"Right..." she says, trying to figure out how to ask Chirrut about the issue without being too obvious that she's not quite as sure about the tempo as she might have thought.

"Jyn, have you ever asked him why he's chose this piece? Why it's always been this particular sonata?" She shakes her head. "Well then, I must be off to teach. Have a good day!"

 

* * *

 

One thing that Jyn has discovered about music students is that the enthusiasm for childish games and pranks seems universal no matter where she is. That's the only possible explanation for how she's been roped into playing "sardines" with the group of people who is rapidly becoming Jyn's circle of friends: Bodhi, Cassian, Han, Leia, Luke, and Han's friend Chewie. Kay is technically part of the group but she's pretty sure the fun centres of his brain are broken, so it's no surprise that he opted out of their brilliant idea to dodge security and spend the entire night in the darkened music building. They'll be paying for the sleepless night tomorrow morning, but her morning class is theory with Draven so she doesn't care if she's loopy and tired because he hates her anyways.

"Okay," Han says, having elected himself the de facto leader of their posse, "I don't think I should have to explain this, but since there's a decent chance at least some of you were major band nerds with no social life in high school, here it is. The rules are simple. Jyn lost the coin toss with Luke, so she goes to hide somewhere. Professors' offices and the concert halls are off limits. We count to, what was it?"

"Two hundred," Leia supplies with a tone of voice that makes it clear she's not remotely surprised that Han forgot this.

"Yeah, what the rules committee decided on."

"I am not a committee!"

"Right, so," Han continues, "count to two hundred, Jyn hides, we split up and try to find her. Once you find her, hide with her. Last person to find everyone loses. Any questions?"

Chewie says...something. Jyn still cannot figure out what sort of accent the enormous, hirsute man has, but it's thick and Han seems to be the only person who can reliably understand him.

"I don't know why it's called sardines, Chewie! Just play the damn game."

Roughly two hundred seconds later, Jyn has managed to shimmy past a few beat up music stands to the back of a storage room and wedge herself between a tall stack of plastic chairs and the corner. She's tucked in such a way that hopefully she won't be too visible from the doorway, especially with the hall lights dimmed for night. It's really not a particularly clever place to hide, but she panicked and lost track of time and thought that being caught standing in the hallway would probably look much more foolish than a mediocre hiding spot. Thank goodness she's not afraid of the dark.

Hiding is boring. In retrospect, as the single most impatient person in their group, volunteering for this job was almost certainly a mistake. It's been at least five minutes, five _long_ minutes, before she hears footsteps tromping down the hall. Finally, some excitement. Doors are being opened on either side of the storage room. She presses against the wall, tucking as far behind the chair stack as possible. If she crams into the corner just so she's fairly certain she can't be seen from the doorway. She's torn between wanting to be found so she'll at least have some company and wanting to remain hidden so that she can lord her superior hiding skills over all of her friends. Once again her competitive side wins out. With a rattle the door opens, flooding the small space with light that is blinding now that her eyes have adjusted to the minuscule amount that sneaks under the door.

"Jyn?" It's Bodhi. He seriously expects her to just call out "I'm here!" like an idiot? Now she stays quiet out of pure spite. After a silence (don't breathe, don't breathe) the door creaks closed, leaving her in the dark again.  Gloating to Bodhi about how he was the first person to find her and just walked right past is going to be absolutely delightful.

"Any luck?" says a muffled voice through the door. Maybe Luke?

"Not yet."

They exchange a few more words too softly for her to hear. Then their steps retreat down the hall and she's truly alone.

Great, now she's bored again. This is the worst game ever. She slumps against the wall and drums her fingers against her thigh, playing along to a jingle from an insurance advert that she heard a few days ago and has gotten stuck in her head ever since. She manages to amuse herself for several minutes by analyzing the chord pattern of the song: I, vi, IV, V7. Laughably basic. Draven would be proud of her. This passes the time until another person walks slowly down the hall. Whoever this is searches more carefully than Bodhi and Luke. They're opening every door and pausing to actually enter and search the rooms. She may have company soon. The sounds grow steadily louder until they stop outside the storage room. She jams into the corner as the door opens. The door closes and someone steps softly towards her. From her spot in the back corner she can't see the door over the chair stack, can't figure out who's about to find her. In the dim light from the door crack a long shadow slips over the floor in front of her. As soon as her pursuer turns the corner past the chairs she will be caught.

Despite it being an easily deduced possibility, based on who she's playing this game with, the sight of Cassian emerging from around the chairs still takes her by surprise. Damn it. His brows raise in alarm upon seeing her and he just stares, looking as if he is genuinely considering just backing right out of the closet and losing on purpose rather than take one step closer to her. Honestly she would happily let him do that, but then she hears someone quickly striding down the hall and no way in hell will she let Cassian ruin her hiding spot by just standing there like a nitwit.

"Get over here!" she hisses. When that does absolutely nothing to rouse him she claws out and drags him over by the shirtfront, managing to get him at least somewhat hidden just as the door handle rattles. That seems to break through his indecision and he surges forward, backing her into the wall just as the door opens, presenting her with a great view of his throat and collar bones. She glances up, can tell that the top of his head is poking over the chairs so she reaches up and pushes him down with a hand on the nape of his neck. He obediently stoops until his nose is pressed against her temple, lips centimetres away from her face.

This may have been a mistake.

She's still got one hand trapped between them, fisted into his shirt, the other now resting on his neck. Their new searcher starts to wander into the room, bumping into a music stand which clangs noisily.

"Damn it!" Han. He knocks into another stand. Her hand unconsciously clenches at the noise, tightening around the fabric of Cassian's shirt. He inhales sharply against her.

"What are you doing in there?" calls Leia from the hall.

"Having a tea party! What do you think?" Han says.

"Well, obviously you're not finding Jyn."

"Yeah, like I see you doing so much better, princess..."

"Don't call me that, you spit-valve-sucking, Pachelbel-loving scruffy asshole!" Leia spits.

"Scruffy? _Scruffy?_ " Han's voice fades slightly as his footsteps retreat towards the doorway. God, Cassian smells great.

"Do I need to define it for you? Because I'd be- Hey, get back here! Where are you going?"

She can practically hear Han's eyes rolling. "Jyn's not in there, so I'm going to look in the practice rooms if that pleases your worship."

Leia's reply is lost to the closet door slamming. For a moment the only sounds are the pair's indistinct bickering and Cassian's breathing.

Her hand is still wedged between them. She can feel his stomach expand with each breath, the only motion from his seemingly frozen form. His arms are boxing her in, hands pressed against the wall on either side of her waist. When she slides her hand down, away from the nape of his neck, he seems to remember their position. He steps back, giving her enough room for her to slip out of the corner which suddenly feels roughly the size of a petri dish.

"Sorry," he says from behind her. "Sorry, I, um-"

 "It's fine," she says, turning to face him. He appears to be intently studying his shoes.

"Cassian?" He hums for her to continue. "Why Brahms?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you chose that piece?"

He sighs. His shoes must be exceptionally fascinating.

"It was my mother's favourite," he mutters.

"Oh. I thought..."

"What?" he asks harshly as if he's just preparing to ward off an attack.

Jyn thinks back to her own mother. Lyra is mostly represented by a hazy, warm feeling, more than actual events or remembrances. Jyn thinks of how at age nine she found a box of cassettes in the attic while she was home alone yet again. 'Lyra' was written on it in her father's messy scrawl. She remembers what it was like to pop the first tape into her Walkman and start bawling when a kind voice that she thought she'd forgotten said, 'Okay, trying this again. Chopin Nocturne in C-sharp Minor, posthumous,' and then her mama was playing the saddest, sweetest piano piece that Jyn had ever heard. That was the day, sitting in that dusty, stifling attic, that Jyn had given up violin and focused on piano. Piano made her feel connected with someone in a way that following in her father's footsteps hadn't. It felt lovely.

"Your mother had good taste," Jyn says to him. Means it.

Cassian looks up, sagging as if all the fight was just pouring out of his muscles and bones. "Yeah, she did." His voice breaks slightly. "She loved Brahms."

"My mama loved Chopin," Jyn says. He smiles softly at her. The moment is suddenly too raw, too open. She turns away to stare at the far wall.

"Do you think they've just given up?" She laughs nervously, trying to feel less exposed.

"Hmm," he considers, "I bet Luke and Bodhi are still looking. Chewie probably got bored and went to the percussion room to practice. Leia and Han are chasing each other around arguing." Jyn snorts.

Footsteps sound down the hall. She freezes, staring at the closet door. Someone's opening other doors. Realizing she's completely exposed she tries to back into the corner as quietly as possible. The door handle clatters and she panics, taking a too large step backwards and losing her balance.

Cassian whispers her name in alarm, catches her by the hips, and hauls her back into the corner just as light floods the closet. In his haste Cassian has pulled her back sharply into his chest with presumably much more force than intended. They're pressed together, from tangled feet all the way up to her head which is cradled in the hollow of his throat.

"Duck!" she hisses. He shifts down from the knees instead, entire body sliding against her back, as their latest interloper enters the closet. Now Cassian's breath is whooshing past her ear and she honestly doesn't know if that's better or worse than before. Either way, she wants to live in this moment forever. Her stomach isn't swooping anymore, it's filling with molten heat which builds and builds every time his shallow exhales caress the sensitive skin behind her right ear. He swallows thickly. His hands let go of her hips and drop to dangle next to her thighs, leaving their bodies still glued together. Every inch of her feels engulfed in the heat that radiates from his form.

Just then her phone vibrates in her back pocket. Damn, she thought she'd turned it off. At least it's on silent. Cassian's hands jerk against the sides of her legs, which is the exact moment when she considers precisely where that sensation is hitting him now that's he's crouched at her level. Her face burns. _Oh god,_ she tries to telepathically communicate to her caller, _please just hang up_.

There's a faint scrape as the searcher moves some of the music stands. Her phone buzzes again and Cassian's entire body spasms as if someone has just stuck an electrode into his spine. His hips twitch slightly like he's trying to dodge back, away from her, but he's jammed against the wall and has nowhere to go. 

Soft steps walk closer.

 _Bzzt!_ Her phone goes off again before she can gather sufficient mental faculties to shift forward and relieve Cassian's obvious discomfort. But something miraculous happens when this vibration hits. Cassian's hips jerk  _forward_ and he lets out an honest-to-God __groan__ right into her ear _._ Fuck. That sounded like a sex groan. She has no other words to describe the strangled noise he just made. Is it possible that's he's every bit as aroused as she feels right now? Her brain floods with images; _turning them around until she's pressed against the wall and he's grabbing her by the hips again and rutting into her from behind and she's just moaning._ Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh _God_ _._ The explosion of want which surges between her legs at the thought forces an involuntary gasp from her. He freezes. He was still before but now he seems to have given up breathing entirely. If this carries on much longer that may be for the best. Him simply collapsing in a sweaty heap due to lack of oxygen flowing to his brain might be the most dignified way this could possibly end. She shoves down a hysterical giggle trying to claw its way up her throat at the thought that she is experiencing what is quite possibly the single most erotic moment of her entire life during a glorified game of hide and seek.

"Oh man, seriously? I can't believe I missed you!" Bodhi whispers bitterly when his head pops around the corner. "Hey Cassian."

Bodhi's greeting seems to snap Cassian out of his trance. He lets out a rattling breath and she all but jumps away from him.

"Uh, everything okay?" Bodhi asks in roughly the same tone of voice as the one he used that time during her high school years when he let himself into her house and found her with her hand down her pants, at which point she remembered that she'd invited him over to study before she'd gotten horny and bored, and Bodhi had said 'Should-should I go?' while gaping at the ceiling and flushing scarlet. Much like that spectacularly traumatizing incident, she also currently wishes that everyone else on the planet would just simultaneously drop dead so she didn't have to face another human being ever again. That would be fan-bloody-tastic.

"We're fine," Cassian says from behind her. He clears his throat. "Close the door."

"Right," Bodhi says.

Her phone vibrates again in her back pocket and she lets out a growl, yanking the blasted device out and blindly poking the screen until it goes still. Darkness envelops the space again. Bodhi swears quietly as he bangs into one of those damn music stands while picking his way back to their corner. Her entire body feels electric. She wants to run, scream, punch something. Fuck.

Giving her a pointed look, Bodhi slips past to sandwich between her and Cassian. Thank God. When she turns to join them Cassian looks every bit as agitated as she feels, antsy and rapidly bouncing his leg. He's also turned away, facing the wall. Very conspicuously.

The rest of the game goes quickly now that their group is too large to properly hide behind the chair stack. When Han and Leia finally spring them she more or less bolts out of the room with a strangled shout about not feeling well and doesn't stop running until she gets back to her flat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter of this fic is already written and will be posted early next week, so stay tuned! Get it, tuned? I'm sorry, I can't help myself.
> 
> When I said that the music references are real, I was very much not kidding. I have done my best to make everything as accurate as possible. Some highlights:  
> *In her lesson with Baze Jyn is working on Frederick Chopin's Nocturne in F Major, Opus 15 No 1. Originally I had her doing a more showy, flowery nocturne (op 27 no 2), but I was playing through this one and realized that the relatively simple beginning and fiery middle section suited Jyn's personality much better. The Paderewski editions are widely considered the definitive versions of Chopin's works.  
> *Jyn and Cassian play Johannes Brahms' Sonata in E-Flat Major, Opus 120 No 2. The piece was originally written for clarinet but Brahms' viola transcription is also well known. The description I give when Jyn and Cassian first play together is accurate to the score and its typical musical interpretation. Correctly writing Cassian's notes was also a minor challenge to my rusty transposition abilities because the score I have is the B-flat clarinet version and it's been ages since I had to do transposing instruments for my theory exams, so that was a fun time. Still better than alto clef, though.  
> *Lyra plays Chopin's Nocturne in C-sharp Minor (published posthumously). Okay, technically this may not be a nocturne (Paderewski says it's not), in which case it's a miscellaneous nocturne-like work called _Lento con gran espressione_ , however I've never heard it called that outside of Paderewski, so Lyra calls it a nocturne. All I can say is that I snagged third place in the Chopin Nocturnes category of my local festival using this piece, so Paderewksi can just bugger off.  
> *All of the briefer references to composers and pieces are real as well. Pachelbel's Cannon in D, while a pretty song, is fairly widely derided by "serious" classical musicians for being over-used and repetitive. Han really should have been most insulted by that.
> 
> Also I have a tumblr, I'd absolutely love some RebelCaptain friends over there! I'm Ndabezitha.


	2. Chapter 2

It's only when she gets home that she thinks to check her phone in order to see which particular person she needs to direct all of her wrath towards.

**_1 missed call from JYN DON'T ANSWER THIS_ **

**_1 text from JYN ONLY ANSWER IF YOU'RE IN A GOOD MOOD_ **

She angrily dismisses the call notification and thumbs over to her texts.

_jyn call me som etime saw_

She grins despite herself. Saw is really trying with the whole texting thing, to his credit, ever since she all but forced him. He just hasn't figured out punctuation. Or capitalization. Or the fact that he doesn't have to sign every text. She's too wound to even contemplate sleeping, so she hits the "call" button next to his contact info. As it rings she cringes at the potential long-distance charges of this call. Oh well. When it carries on ringing she attempts to mentally calculate the time zone difference to Jordan before remembering that Saw just texted her twenty minutes ago, so it's undoubtedly late enough that he's awake.

"Hello?"

"Hi Saw."

"Jyn!" he says in his leathery, warm voice, "How are you, my child?"

"I'm good, everything's okay." Despite all the hurt she's been through with him, talking to Saw is still a comfort to her. It brings her back to a time in her life when mama was gone and papa was so sad he wouldn't even look at her, but Saw would just stick her in front of the piano and let her work, same as always.

"Are they treating you well? You know you're good enough to go to any school, Jyn," Saw says fiercely.

"I know." She does. Sort of. Most of the time, when she's not feeling too much of a terrible musician. "The teachers are good, and they've got the most amazing old Bösendorfer in the practice rooms."

"You were always far too fond of old European pianos." He coughs wetly. "You're studying with Baze Malbus, yes?"

"Yeah," she confirms. The world of classical music is not as small as it might appear, so she mildly surprised that her former teacher knows her current teacher.

"Does he have you doing more Chopin?" Saw asks with faint disapproval. "He's such a sentimentalist."

"I _asked_ to do more Chopin."

"Just like your mother," he says. "Lyra was forever coming round with you in one arm and Chopin in the other. I tried to convince her to do some more modern pieces; Reich, Ginastera, Khachaturian, anyone. She kept going back to the romantics."

"At least it's better than what papa was doing," she replies wryly. Besmirching her father's post-tonal garbage is a long-running joke between them.

Saw chuckles. "Mmm, yes, we can agree on that. Have you spoken to your father, Jyn?"

Damn. She walked right into that one.

"He said he's coming here in December for a concert," she dodges. "You spoke with him?"

"No," Saw says. She hears him fumble for a second, then draw a breath from his oxygen tank. "I promised myself, a long time ago, that I'd not interfere in your relationship."

"Then _don't,_ " she says with a bite.

There's a long pause on the other end of the line. His breathing sounds terrible, laboured, rasping, much more painful than the last time she was with him. The thought of his worsening condition sends an ache through her heart. She remembers that Saw never asked to be a part of her life, and was probably just doing the best he could to care for his neighbour's messed up kid while her father was too busy grieving to remember that he still had a daughter. But Saw still hurt her.

"You cut me off," she starts, knowing that going down this conversational path yet another time will almost certainly end poorly, but unable to stop herself.

Saw sighs deeply. "I know," he says. He pulls from the oxygen tank again with a hiss. "You were too good. I had nothing left to teach you."

She can't believe she's forcing them to rehash this. Again. Over the phone. But her mouth just keeps going.

"You were the only person I had. You were all I had and you just cut me off, told me to find a new teacher because you were moving halfway round the world." Growling, she adds, "then you were just gone."

"I had nothing left to teach you," he repeats emphatically, "You would have never found another teacher if I had stayed, you were too attached."

"I didn't want another teacher!" How can he not _get_ this?

"You were ready." Saw takes another breath. "I knew you would become a remarkable pianist. You were the best student I ever had."

Her anger dissipates. Saw, misguided as he may have been, had at least done these things in some attempt to do what he thought was best for her. That's more credit than she's willing to give her father.

 

* * *

 

 

Because Jyn is a mature person who is good at dealing with problems and not just putting things aside until they cannot be ignored, she texts Cassian at eight the next morning to cancel their practice session that afternoon. He doesn't text back.

Maturity is vastly overrated.

She manages to make it through the next few days without running into him. Neither one of them texts to confirm any of their previously scheduled practice times. Bodhi keeps asking why she's acting so strangely so she feigns a lingering stomach complaint rather than dealing with his questions. Going a very long time, for example the rest of her life, without ever seeing again Cassian would be great, but unfortunately Baze and Chirrut have put them down for one of the public midterm recitals, which take place in less than a fortnight, so she'll have to face him at some point. Soon.

Despite the massive shitshow that her personal life has devolved into, Baze is still happy with her progress at their lesson.

"Try to bring out the subject more in the left hand, measure fifteen," is his most substantial critique after she finishes playing her Bach piece. She sags slightly with relief. This fugue is bloody hard and Baze is a stickler about her technique. If that's the biggest complaint he can produce, she must be doing alright. There's a knock at the door, and Chirrut once again pokes his head into the room.

"Baze, are you finished with Jyn's Bach?" Her teacher mumbles an affirmative. "Mind if we cut in for a moment, then?" Baze grunts his assent and the door swings open to reveal Chirrut and a stony-faced Cassian, holding his viola. Shit. She's almost certain that he wants to flee every bit as much as she does, but Chirrut sweeps his hand, indicating for Cassian to enter first. Cassian slouches in like a man heading to his execution, grimly staring at the floor. Chirrut steps in and closes the door, trapping them in the tiny office.

"Cassian tells me that you two haven't practiced together this week," Chirrut says. Baze swings his head around to stare at her. "I thought it would be a perfect time for us to check on your progress together. Unless there's some problem?" Chirrut asks, voice rising leadingly.

She locks eyes with Cassian. There's a pause in the room. Cassian grinds his jaw slightly.

"No problem," Jyn says when it becomes clear that Cassian is not going to make the first move, and no way in hell is she going to explain to both of their teachers that they've been avoiding each other because of a mutually arousing incident in a storage room.

"Except the tempo for the third movement," Cassian adds pointedly.

"Okay," says Baze, nudging a music stand toward him. "Let's hear it."

They set up their scores. During her count-in Cassian rolls his eyes in displeasure at her choice of tempo. _Bastard_. Within the first few measures everything is completely askew. Neither one of them has budged from their preferred speeds, leaving Cassian stubbornly dragging behind while she races ahead of him. It sounds awful but she is not going to be the one to bend. Baze stops them.

"Well," Chirrut says, "that was enlightening. Cassian, may I borrow your viola for a moment?" Cassian looks at his teacher with surprise. "Don't worry, your treasure is in good hands," Chirrut playfully reassures him. "Baze?"

Her teacher nods at her in such a way that she understands she's meant to cede the piano. He sits down on the bench while she stands, awkwardly hovering behind him, crammed against the wall.

Baze doesn't count in. He looks up, to Chirrut who sightlessly stares beyond him, and they pause. After a moment she can see Baze's arms bobbing rhythmically, hands poised above the keyboard. He breathes audibly, synchronizes his breath to the beat. Within a few pulses Chirrut has picked up the quiet rhythm, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. Baze accents one beat with a particularly harsh inhale, exhales once, and then they're off. Together. Chirrut's playing seems a little unpolished, but she belatedly realizes that he's not looking at the sheet music. He's playing this entirely by ear. Holy shit. The two men sound magnificent in their unity. Baze lets Chirrut's melody float above the piano part, which steadily harmonizes without overtaking the viola's sweet tone. Neither instrument dominates, each taking and passing the focus in a wordless dialogue. The tempo they've chosen is a bit faster than Cassian's, a bit slower than hers, and she understands that _this_ is how it should sound. It neither lags nor hurries, instead gliding along with effortless grace.

She glances over to Cassian. He's already looking at her. Without speaking she can tell that he's arrived at the exact same conclusion as her.

_This is what we've been searching for._

Baze and Chirrut fall silent. They both look to each other. Something passes between then, something so profound and intimate that she feels like an intruder. Baze coughs and ducks his head. Chirrut smiles broadly.

 

* * *

 

 

For a person who doesn't drink alcohol and once jumped about a foot into the air when she walked up behind him and said "hi", Bodhi seems to be exceptionally talented at throwing loud, all-night booze fests at his tiny flat. Jyn's quickly learned that Bodhi's monthly ragers are a highlight of the YSPA social calendar and that attendance is all but mandatory unless you want to be labelled a snob. Thankfully she's started to know more people and only spends about half the time drinking alone in the corner now, which she considers to be tremendous progress. Last time she ended up just staying until dawn then going for a greasy breakfast with the stragglers. Luke's friend Threepio tagged along and spent the entire time arguing with Kay about composition stuff. She still can't quite figure out if those two hate each other or not.

Bodhi's parties are also a good way to avoid being alone with Cassian. Well, it's not that she's avoiding him, exactly. She can't possibly do that when they are required to practice together for a few hours every week. But after everything that's happened recently, she really can't get a read on him and she's been hurt way too many times to even think of taking the first step toward something unless she's damn sure that he feels the same way. Fortunately he spends most of these parties chatting with Kay which definitely takes some of the pressure off her. She's even letting loose enough to dance with Leia, flailing and grinding along to the dance music in between fits of laughter. They're both awful dancers. There's a good crowd in the makeshift dance floor that's taken over Bodhi's living room, but Jyn can still see Han over Leia's shoulder, watching her with hooded eyes. If he sees Jyn returning his gaze, he doesn't let on. But she and Leia have an unspoken understanding: Jyn doesn't mention whatever's going on between Leia and Han and Leia doesn't pester her about Cassian. It's a good arrangement and Jyn is not going to be the one to break their pact.

"He's staring at me, isn't he?" Leia more or less shouts over the music. "That self-important dipshit!"

"Yeah!" Before Jyn takes time to really think about what she's saying she shouts back, "Bet you a fiver you can't dance an entire song together without killing him!"

"Bet you the same thing for Cassian!" Leia replies, nodding her head to somewhere on Jyn's left and damn, Cassian is indeed staring at the two of them. He locks eyes with her across the room for the longest second she's ever experienced before ducking his head. She looks back at Leia, the other woman meeting her gaze with knowing challenge.

Dares have always been a weak spot in Jyn's already paper-thin self control. Once, when she was eleven and Bodhi was twelve, he'd managed to goad her into jumping off the roof of Saw's house for reasons she cannot remember. One A&E visit later and a diagnosis of a sprained ankle that could have easily been broken instead, Saw was more upset that she'd injured her _right_ ankle and would be unable to use the piano pedals properly for the next month than he was angry with her antics. She really should have learned better after that. She hasn't learned, though, can't count the number of times that Saw had managed to smooth things over with the neighbours whose house she TP'd or the corner store owner whose wall she may have spray painted. This is definitely not a situation Saw can fix for her. She really should say no.

"You're on!"

She'll learn from her mistakes some other day. Leia shoots her a smirk before striding towards Han, who's wearing the biggest shit-eating grin that Jyn has ever seen, and suddenly Jyn suspects that she may be on the losing end of this wager. Too late to back down now. Turning round to face the music she is instead confronted with a face full of someone's chest as she spins too quickly and bounces off the person who was definitely not standing right behind her a few seconds ago. A pair of hands shoot out and catch her by the waist before she falls flat on her backside.

"Hey, you okay?" Even if she hadn't been able to identify Cassian by his voice she'd have known it was him because how can he possibly smell _that_ good all the time? It would be uncanny if it weren't so damn arousing. She steps back enough to look up at him and he bobs down to meet her halfway. "We've got to stop meeting this way!" he speak-shouts to her, grinning at his own little joke. His hands are still there, palms cupping the bottom of her rib cage, long fingers arching around her sides. Wait, did he just stroke her with his thumb? She's almost certain he just moved his thumb and that can't _possibly_ be an accident, right? Jesus. She wants to murder Leia. At some point she realizes that she's just been staring at him wordlessly, too caught up in how dumb his handsome face is and her inarticulate desire to just sort of climb him. She should probably say something.

"Um...Hi!"

Wow, brilliant. Gold star to Jyn for sounding like a complete and utter clod. Christ almighty. Cassian interrupts her self-flagellation by saying "hey" with a little chuckle and producing a truly stunning smile like she's just said the funniest thing ever. His grin is a little crooked. His eyes are downright _twinkling_. Well, at least she's going to die a happy woman. A new song begins to fade in, something with a slightly slower beat (around 120 beats per minute, her brain helpfully supplies), reminding her of the reason she was looking for him.

"Want to dance?"

His eyebrows dart up for a fraction of a second. "Yeah, sure!" He shifts his hands then, sliding them around her flanks to span the middle of her back. _Bugger_. Clearly she did not think this through well enough. When he starts moving along to the beat it occurs to her that she's meant to do something with her body, especially her hands. She settles them on his shoulders with only minimal second guessing, feeling his muscles bunch under the soft fabric of his shirt as he adjusts to her hold.

It's actually pretty nice and not too weird once they start dancing properly. The song is fast enough to accommodate her default 'bounce along to the beat' style and since Jyn doesn't really have any other moves that's a relief. Cassian steps much more confidently, guiding her through a few turns and spins and laughing when she treads on his feet.

"Sorry! Should've warned you, I'm rubbish at dancing!" she shouts for what feels like the hundredth time.

He shakes his head, smiling brightly down at her. "No, no, it's fine! You're good." That is demonstrably untrue but he seems to genuinely believe it. His hands give her sides a gentle squeeze. "It might be easier if you were a bit closer, it's hard to lead when you're far away like that!"

Closer. He wants to get closer. _Good Lord_. He's waiting patiently for her to assent, just grinning and meeting her gaze through the little tuft of hair that's fallen over his forehead. Without any input from her conscious brain, her hand reaches up to slide it back from his face. It's every bit as soft as it looks. His smile vanishes, mouth parting ever so slightly when the tips of her fingers brush his forehead and she involuntarily looks down to his lips. His hands spasm against her waist, fingers digging into her shirt. When she looks back up his eyes are locked on her mouth. Oh God...

"Cassian, I need to speak with you." At the infuriating sound of Kay's voice Jyn springs back from Cassian as if he were suddenly covered in electric eels. The tall man turns, as if he hadn't noticed her presence until now, and grits his teeth around her name, ' _Jyn_ ', with the most disdain she's ever heard someone express in a single syllable.

What the fuck is she doing? Panic flares through her, old rejections and festering hurts, memories trampling over her heart, gnawing at her brain and constricting her chest.

She honestly has no idea what exactly she says to Cassian and Kay before bolting this time. Maybe it was just sort of a strangled "uhng". Regardless, she's out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The fragile 'let's never discuss whatever this is that keeps happening between us' agreement with Cassian somehow manages to hold together after the party. Possibly for no other reason than that the recital is happening in less than seven days and it counts towards their participation grades so they cannot mess it up. She can't shake the feeling that he's looking at her more. Or perhaps just differently? More than once during their practices she's looked up from the piano to find him gazing down at her. His face seems utterly blank every time she catches him doing this.

Harassing Bodhi while he practices is a much safer way to fulfill her need for social interaction than trying to deal with Cassian, which is how she finds herself slouched on the piano bench in one of the smallest practice rooms, listening to Bodhi's Vivaldi and offering helpful comments.

"Those trills sound like total crap." That sort of helpful comment. She has no idea why Bodhi isn't more appreciative.

"You're welcome to try it, Jyn," Bodhi says, frowning at his score. He tried to teach her some cello when they were younger, he knows that she is completely useless at the instrument, just enjoys reminding her of that fact.

"Oh no," she replies loftily, "I wouldn't deprive you of the chance to improve. How will you ever get better if I do everything for you?"

Bodhi snorts and tries the passage again.

"The trills sounded slightly less like crap." Honestly Bodhi should be thanking her.

"As grateful as I am for your feedback, aren't you supposed to be practicing with Cassian?"

"Not until," she glances at her watch, "oh shit!"

Apparently her chronic lateness is hysterically funny, since Bodhi doubles over in laughter as she tries and fails to grab all of her belongings all at once. Rude. She flicks an obscene gesture at him on her way out the door. Her phone rings as she jogs down the hallway to the big practice room. Normally she'd just let it go to voicemail, but student services has been complaining that her student loan application was filled out incorrectly and she cannot miss another call from them. Cassian gives her a stunned look, freezes midway through a long note, bow grinding to a halt with a comical screech, as she barrels into the practice room, holds up a finger for him to be quiet, then hauls her phone out and blindly answers it while trying to not drop her bag or keys.

"Jyn?"

She drops her bag. And her keys.

"Don't hang up! Please, Stardust."

"What do you want?" She grits her teeth. Her heart thumps furiously.

"I know you probably don't want to talk to me-"

"No shit, dad."

"Please, Jyn," her father continues, "You can't ignore me forever."

"Just watch me." She swivels, needing to move, pace. Cassian has sat down in the plastic chair and is studying his score, trying much too hard to pretend like he's not overhearing what is obviously a very personal conversation. She turns away from him.

Galen sighs, a long, drawn-out whoosh of air. "I'm sorry. I don't know how many times I need to say that, but I'll say it again. I'm sorry." He pauses, obviously expecting her to respond to this tired overture. When she says nothing, he continues. "All I wanted to tell you was that I'll be at your school while I'm there for my concert. Chirrut asked me to do a masterclass for strings."

"Seriously?" she asks incredulously. "I just want you to leave me alone, and you can't even manage that. What part of me not answering your calls, ever, implied that you should keep calling me?"

"What was I supposed to do, Jyn?" her father asks, prickling, "Chirrut asked me there personally. I'm sorry, but your mother-"

"No." She sucks in a shaky breath, "No. We are not talking about her."

There's a long pause. "I know, I still miss her too," he says, trying for empathy in what is possibly the worst misreading of her mood imaginable. "She was my everything. I lost-"

"She was my _mother!_ " she snarls, "You didn't lose everything, I was still there!" Fuck she _hates_ him. She hates how he makes her feel.

"I never left you," he responds, sounding genuinely _hurt_ and she wishes he was dead. She wishes that she had been enough for him, that he had been able to stand the sight of her after Mama died. "I was doing my best, Jyn. You just-" He sighs, anger dissolving from his voice. "You remind me so much of her, Stardust. It was so hard. And she would've wanted me to keep making music."

"Bullshit."

He might say something else after that, but she'll never know because she yanks the phone away from her ear and stabs the 'end call' button.

The room falls completely still, silence only punctuated by her angry breathing.

_Do not scream, do not cry, do not punch something, do not-  
_

"Jyn?"

God, the way Cassian says her voice. His accent rounds off the harsh corners of the J, softens the Y. It actually sounds pretty when he says it. She hears the shift of his clothes as he stands up. "Are you okay?"

She is going to start crying if he keeps talking to her like that. All warm and gentle. She nods rapidly, biting her lip and trying to regain control of her body. Her skin feels hot and tight, she fights the urge to claw at it until she can tear out all of the grief and pain that's built up in the marrow of her bones.

"Just family shit," she says, going for bravado but knowing that her voice is too deadly, too sad. She slowly turns to face him. He regards her with open, kind eyes, viola and bow grasped in his left hand.

"Was that...?" He trails off, scratches the back of his neck.

She clears her throat and tries again, "Yeah, that's Galen Erso, virtuoso violinist, father of the year. Now you know."

"Families are hard," he replies after a pause. His right hand shifts forward then drops back, clenches at his side, as if he wants to reach out to her. He doesn't, thank goodness. If he did she would just fall apart and she does not want to do that now.

She nods, clears her throat again. "Sorry you had to hear all that." Moving back to the piano, she collects her dropped possessions and retrieves the Brahms score from her bag. "Shall we?"

Cassian picks up his viola, makes music with her, and she is so tremendously grateful that he understands her in this way. This is what she needs right now.

 

* * *

 

 

Jyn, in her defense, is not _exactly_ late for the mid-term recital.

Call time was 1 p.m., and it's only 1:14 now. Round that down, makes only ten minutes late, and _voilà_ , she's basically on time.

She hurries past the main entrance of YSPA's smaller concert hall, rounding the corner to the side hall which provides backstage access through an inconspicuous black door. There's a piece of paper taped to the door opposite, which she discovers has 'green room' written in hasty letters. The improvised green room turns out to be a disused classroom, crammed with nervous energy. Students have staked out spots to leave their instrument cases, adjusting, tightening and piecing together their charges. As a pianist Jyn doesn't have any tuning or instrument prep to do before the concert. She's already warmed up in the practice rooms, so she tries to spot her friends through the crowd.

"C'mon, Chewie! Please, just wear the tie!"

The sight of tiny Luke Skywalker brandishing a thin piece of green silk at the titanic man is enough to make Jyn snort with barely repressed laughter. Chewie is saying something that honestly just sounds like "augh," but when Luke throws his hands into the air and looks to Han for assistance the trumpeter responds with a careless drawl.

"Better let me, kid." Han detaches from the backstage wall, saunters over, and snatches the tie from Luke. Chewie glowers and grumbles as it's tossed over the back of his neck, clearly wishing violent carnage on whomever established the semi-formal dress code for the mid-term recital. "Yeah, I know, ties are for squares," Han commiserates. Both men look profoundly uncomfortable in their suits; brown and baggy on Chewie, grey and snug on Han.

"Where's Cassian?" she asks Bodhi. It's highly unlike the violist to be late, let alone later than her. Kay was right about that; not that she'll ever admit it.

Bodhi looks up from his phone, "He was here." He turns to call over his shoulder, "Luke, did you see where Cassian went?"

"I think he went to get changed?" Luke replies.

Bodhi shrugs. "There you go."

Jyn thanks them, then turns to the small, smudged mirror that is dangling at a rather sad angle from a rusty nail. She stares at her own reflection angrily. Her hair looks bloody awful. Leia, to Jyn's envy, has pulled hers into a glorious whorl of braids which looks like something straight from a high-budget costume drama. Despite Jyn's best efforts, her hair refuses to do anything but just hang there, flat and dull. She briefly considers just lopping off her bangs right here, settles on batting at them with her comb instead. The impotent frustration of it all makes her want to punch something.

"May I?" Leia asks, sidling up next to her.

"God, yes."

Leia is clearly some sort of hair styling wizard. Must be a necessary skill for someone with so much of the stuff. That's the only explanation for how in less than a minute she's scooped Jyn's hair into an elegant twist on the back of her neck that actually looks amazing. The woman taps Jyn's comb against her lips for a moment in consideration, then does something with it (a magic spell, obviously) so that when Jyn sees herself in the mirror again, graceful tendrils of hair are framing the sides of her face.

"There, much better," Leia says simply. She wanders back to check the valves on her horn as Jyn says thanks. Jyn smooths her hands over her knee-length blue dress, mentally running through all of the notes Baze has given her for this performance. _Make sure the octaves sound cleanly, don't play too loudly during the quiet bits, don't rush._ Her stomach is fluttering with the anticipation of performance. She's not nervous, never has been, but this is her favourite adrenaline fix.

"Oh good, you made it," says Cassian from behind her. "I was going to send out a search party." Wait, is he _flirting_ with her? That sounded less pointed, more teasing than she would consider normal for them.

"Says the man who walked in here after me," she retorts. She spins, intending to add another barb onto the end of that sardonic reply to bring the mood back to a more comfortable, less flirtatious tone, but is momentarily stunned by the sight of him in shirt-sleeves, viola case slung over one shoulder, dark suit jacket draped over his arm, polished black shoes, _trim_ trousers. Her mouth waters a little. He's also sporting a cheeky little grin. He really should grin more. Preferably on a constant basis.

His eyes quickly sweep down to her toes and back up to meet her stare. She realizes that this is almost certainly the first time he's ever seen her wearing anything other than jeans and a hoodie. A twinge of self-doubt fills her momentarily. She knows intellectually that she's pretty enough by conventional standards, but formal wear has always been a struggle for her to get right. If she had her druthers she'd do this concert in jeans, but Dean Mothma's email had been _quite_ specific about banning that, which had felt more than a little directed at Jyn personally.

"You look nice," Cassian says, nodding slightly at her, face breaking into a glorious smile. He steadily holds her gaze until she ducks her head, feeling a flush bloom in her face. She scowls at her traitorous cheeks. When she manages to look up he's shrugged into his jacket and is fussing with the lapels. He finishes, spreads his arms slightly.

"Do I pass inspection?" Okay, he is definitely flirting with her now. He cannot drop his voice that low and gaze at her from under his fringe of hair _platonically_. It just doesn't seem possible. She collects herself and looks him over properly, starting at his shoes and traveling up to the base of his throat.

"Your tie, it's..." She searches for the word. What is she trying to say? His face is distracting. He reaches up and tugs at the tie for a moment, then drops his hands.

"Now?"

"Nope, that's worse." Lumpy! That's the word she wanted. "It's lumpy."

He frowns, cranes his head forward a bit and wiggles the knot again, tries to smooth it down with his fingers. "Is there a mirror in here?"

She turns back to where the dingy little circle of glass hangs, sees three different women all trying to fight for a sliver of reflection. Clearly none of the theatre students were consulted when this place was turned into a green room.

"How about this?" His latest efforts have not improved things.

"No, just..." She tries to figure out how to explain the precise nature of the lumpiness to him. "Never mind, just let me." She pops onto tiptoes and reaches up before he can respond to that. His Adam's apple bobs as her fingers close around the tie knot, which requires a fair amount of gentle tugging and squishing to be herded into a neater shape. A warm breath fans across the top of her head. In her peripheral vision she sees his right hand dance towards her, hovering, fingers spread, like he's fighting the urge to steady her tenuous balance by spanning wide across her back. If she were to stumble right now she is absolutely certain that he would catch her.

"Done!" Even to her own ears, her voice sounds rather strained. Her hand, entirely of its own accord, flattens, smooths against the top of his firm chest for a second as she drops back. "Good enough."

"Thanks," he says after a pause. He looks down at the newly-tamed piece of silk, lifts the end off his stomach. "Hey, we match."

Oh God, he's right. Somehow she'd not noticed while she was in the process of fixing it, but his tie is almost the exact same shade of royal blue as her dress. Her stomach does a barrel roll. She thinks she manages to say 'yeah' in response, eventually? It's not entirely clear to her. Whatever she said, Cassian hums briefly in agreement before turning away to unpack his viola. Thank heavens.

 

* * *

 

 

Surprisingly, Threepio's composition for the strange ensemble of horn, trumpet, oboe, and tuned percussion turns out to be a rather brilliant bit of work. Leia, Han, Luke, and Chewie take two curtain calls before shuffling through the tiny backstage space, past where Jyn and Cassian are standing. Kay, who was recruited to turn pages for Jyn, much to their mutual displeasure, hunches in the corner a short distance away.

"Break a leg out there," Cassian leans down to whisper encouragingly in her ear, resting his hand on her bare shoulder for a brief moment. Her stomach flips. _Okay, here we go._ The stage crew finishes clearing the chairs, stands, and marimba that the previous group had used, so Jyn takes a deep breath and begins the long walk out.

They're greeted by a polite round of applause. She spares the audience a quick glance. The relatively casual mid-term recital, which is meant to showcase works-in-progress (as Baze has repeatedly reminded her, presumably trying to be reassuring), is a well-attended affair. Due to the darkened auditorium she can't see much beyond the first few rows where the stage lights spill out, but spies Chirrut and Baze sitting in the centre. She makes it to the piano without falling flat on her face, which is always a relief, rests her hand on the piano's shoulder, and gives a small bow to the audience. Then she sets her score on the music stand and sits facing the other wing of the stage. To her right Cassian is going through similar motions of preparation. Kay slouches into his chair to her left. She'd never thought someone could sit in a chair in an irritating manner, but Kay has found a way to do just that, looking rather like an overgrown, tetchy child who is overdue for a nap. She snaps her focus away from him, looks to Cassian who is lightly plucking on the strings of his viola. He returns her look and she presses down on a single key, letting him tune to his satisfaction. Once that's done she pauses, holding his gaze, then quietly counts in.

Preparing for performances can be so much hell and bullshit that she occasionally forgets why she puts herself through it. But every time she plays for an audience, the reasons she loves this come rushing back. She dizzily skips along the tightrope of adrenaline, pushing to play at the edge of her abilities, and Cassian walks with her every step of the way. Their recent practice sessions were good, but they're nothing compared to this. Everything just seems to slot into place. Cassian's playing is beatific.

She's only fucking up a little bit, so that's good too.

 

* * *

 

 

As she and Cassian thunder out the last chord of the piece together, her entire body suffuses with the ecstasy of relief.

_We did it._

She glances to her right, watching the stroke of Cassian's bow to synchronize the precise moment when they release their final note. There's a split second of complete stillness as she draws her hands off the keys. Then audience roars in applause. She sags, facing the piano to just breathe for a moment and just bask in the warmth of accomplishment. When she looks back up, Cassian is looking over at her, joyous smile splitting his face. She knows that her face is a mirror of his. He shifts his viola and offers his left hand to her. She wraps her fingers around his and stands up, leading him up to the front of the stage.

She floats offstage after their bows. Bodhi gives them a thumbs up as they pass him backstage, mouths 'good job' at them while she claps him on the shoulder. They burst out into the hallway and Jyn can't contain herself any longer.

"That was amazing!" She turns to face Cassian. He's just beaming at her, happy and handsome and thrumming with the same energy she feels. God, that perfect performance, this perfect man. Before she can second-guess herself Jyn surges forward. He falls into perfect sync with her, again, opens his arms just as she stands up on her toes and wraps her arms around his neck for their first proper hug. He laughs in shared enthusiasm, tightening the arm not holding his viola behind her back, and then all of a sudden he's lifting her easily. She yelps with delighted surprise as he spins them around once before setting her down and pulling back.

"You were so good!" he says, "You-" He shakes his head in giddy wonder "Jyn, you were perfect!" He's just staring at her with the most radiant smile on his face. Maybe it's just the adrenaline coursing like fire through her veins, more likely it has something to do with him, but Jyn has never been good at tempering her instincts. She teeters back up, closes her eyes, and presses her lips to his.

For a split second he freezes. _Oh God_ , what has she done?

But then he's there with her and his lips move against hers and he's pulling her closer and thank _fuck_ because this is amazing. His viola presses into her hip as he draws her in, encircling her with his arms, and she clutches the nape of his neck. His tongue darts out to tease her lip and she cannot contain the moan that wells up from her chest. She lightly cups his cheek with her other hand, savours the rasp of stubble against her palm. His free arm jerks, slides up to tease the base of her hairline with the tips of his fingers, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Giving his lower lip a hint of her teeth pulls a low growl from him and the heat in her stomach burns hotter.

A burst of muffled laughter from the green room tears her focus away, reminds her of just how public their current location is and how very much she wants to do things to Cassian that are _entirely_ unsuitable for public view. Reluctantly she pulls back, opens her eyes, slowly dropping down to plant her feet back on solid ground. As she retreats he dips his head slightly, unconsciously chasing after her. He gently rests his forehead against hers. They pant a few shared breaths before he drags his eyes open.

Damn, he looks even better when he's freshly kissed. Lips slightly swollen, hair mussed, eyes boring into her own. He really should just walk around that way all the time. She'd be happy to help him with that. She unclenches the hand which had entirely of its own accord been wound through the back of his hair.

He lets out a shaky breath. Licks his lips. Fuck, he cannot keep _doing that_ to her. It's just unfair. His mouth tilts up in a sweet little smile.

"Wow," he says. His voice cracks around the word. She briefly reconsiders the exactly how much she could get away with in public view.

She feels herself grin in response to him. A rush of warm affection flows through her. "Yeah," she agrees, unable to sum up coherent thought much beyond that. Applause rumbles from the auditorium as Bodhi finishes his Franchomme etude, concluding the recital. Jyn steps out of the circle of Cassian's arms just as the backstage door opens. Bodhi's cello emerges through the door, followed by Bodhi himself.

"That was brilliant!" Jyn says to him, wrapping an arm around him in a half hug, even though Bodhi could have honestly played the Macarena instead and she wouldn't have noticed.

"Thanks!" Bodhi says. He grimaces, "I messed up the bowing at the end."

"No, no, it still sounded great," Cassian reassures him, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You did very well. The end is tricky."

"You guys sounded great too," Bodhi grins, "The third movement is so much better now!"

"Gee, thanks," she quips, "Glad to know there was so much room for improvement."

Bodhi rolls his eyes at her. "You are terrible at taking compliments." Bodhi turns to walk behind her into the green room. She meets Cassian's eyes and he's already looking at her, tiniest of smiles lifting his features.

"Oh yeah, are we still-?" Bodhi interrupts himself as he turns back towards them. "Um, Jyn, you've got something on your dress."

"Shit, are you kidding? What is it?" Did she seriously just go on-stage with a dirty dress? Bodhi gestures in the direction of her left side and she contorts, trying to catch sight of any errant spots. She manages to identify the long bands of powdery white that cut across her hip and back at the same moment that Bodhi does.

"That's rosin," Bodhi says. Cassian's bow must've been rubbing against her dress while they were kissing, leaving trails of white all up and down her side. Oops. She glances at Cassian, who looks like he's trying incredibly hard to not fixate on memories of what they were doing to cause the marks.

"How'd it get there? Was that from me or you?" Bodhi asks Cassian as he holds up his stout cello bow, touching it lightly to see if the hairs are still coated with an even layer of rosin.

"I think that was me," Cassian responds in a carefully level tone. "We hugged, I must've held my bow too close." Thank God, he's actually a decent liar.

"Yeah, we hugged!" Jyn confirms quickly. Which possibly looks more suspicious. Way more suspicious, based on Bodhi's expression. Damn it.

"Right," Bodhi says slowly. He sticks his cello out in the direction of the door. "I'm gonna go pack up now. You guys coming?"

"We'll be right there," Cassian assures him. Bodhi gives them one last _look_ before pushing through the green room door.

Jyn reaches around and pats and brushes her dress until the most obvious stains are mostly faded. Bodhi they might be able to fool, or at least Bodhi will give them the benefit of the doubt and not voice any suspicions. But if anyone else figures out the truth it will become a hot discussion topic, and Jyn is not prepared to deal with that.

"How's that?" she asks Cassian, raising her arm to offer him a clear view of the area where the rosin marks had fallen. He eyes her critically, puts his free hand on her waist and gently turns her.

"You missed a spot," he says. The breadth of his hand drags a long, warm line from her shoulder blades down to the crest of her hip, pausing there to firmly run his thumb along the ridge of bone. Her stomach clenches. "There, all gone." How the _fuck_ does he make his voice drop that low? If he keeps doing things like that to her in public she is going to murder him. Or jump him. Difficult to say.

She spins back to face him. She'd been prepared to just walk away without comment, but he's smirking at her with the most infuriating little sexy grin and that is just rude, making her feel so damn aroused when she's not able to do anything to resolve that.

"Stop it," she growls, not entirely sure if she means the hand on her hip or the thing he just did with his voice or just _him_. Either way she knows she sounds more frustrated than genuinely angry and he actually smiles a bit wider for a second before trying to school his face into seriousness. God, he's such a prat sometimes. 

"Stop what?" He can't keep the amused lilt out of his voice. Why on Earth is she still _so_ attracted to him right now?

"Stop touching me," she cringes as soon as the words leave her lips, realizing what _that_ sounds like and that is not what she meant, damn it. He snorts at her. Wanker. "In public!" Shit that just makes it sound worse. Her cheeks burn. "Just stop...distracting me!" Well, that's not exactly what she meant either. It's true, of course, but she definitely didn't mean to admit that he's _distracting._

He chuckles while raising his hands up in a peace offering. Now he's outright smiling and she feels her face pull into a matching grin. Forcing herself to adopt a scowl, she stomps past him toward the green room to collect her bags. As she approaches the door it bangs open and her friends spill out into the hall.

"Hey, squirt," Han greets her. Given how Leia's protests about his monikers seem to just egg the trumpeter on, Jyn settles for just scowling even harder at him. "We thought you two got lost crossing the hallway."

"You guys are grabbing something to eat with us, right?" Bodhi asks as he ducks around Han, arms securely looped through both straps of his cello case. When they were young she'd tried to convince Bodhi that cool kids only used one strap of their backpacks, but he's always been more careful than her, liked the safety of doing things the right way. Probably a good thing she gave up violin; she was forever dropping it and accidentally smashing the case into things, even managed to snap the bridge of her tiny 1/8 size violin when she was running through their old house. Bodhi interrupts her memories by wordlessly handing over her bag. Kay turns away from quietly speaking to Cassian and stalks back to the green room.

Leia loops her arm through Jyn's and tugs gently. "C'mon, Luke and I found this _amazing_ little diner a few blocks down. You'll love it."

Chewie replies to that. Apparently Leia is starting to understand him too, because she confirms, "Yeah, the Cantina, that's the name."

Chewie looks back to Han. Raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah... What do you say we hit the other place, Maz's?" Han says, averts his eyes, scratches the back of his neck.

Chewie growls something out. Han swears, whips around to face him.

"No, no!" He points a finger at Chewie. "We weren't 'banned' from anywhere! I just think we should go someplace different."

Leia listens to Chewie's latest statement then rounds on Han.

"'No longer welcome' sure sounds a lot like 'banned' to me!" She jabs his chest with her finger. "You started a fight?"

"We did not start a fight! This nutcase just started insulting me, so I had to-" Han starts.

The rest of her friends begin filtering past the bickering pair. Everyone is used to walking around and between Han and Leia when they're arguing in any of YSPA's cramped corridors. Bodhi hovers a few metres away, clearly waiting for her. When she turns back Cassian is gently smiling at her. God, he just looks warm and happy and she wants to bottle that, how he makes her feel the same way.

"You go ahead," he says gently. "Kay says he wants to talk to me about something."

"You sure?" she asks, wanting to just stay with him and bask in this moment for as long as she can. Hoping desperately that she hasn't misread the situation and that this isn't a dismissal.

He bobs his head. "Yeah, we'll catch up." He lowers his voice, leans in toward her. "And maybe I can see you after? Tonight?" The mask of flirty self-assurance cracks, and for a second she can see genuine vulnerability peeking through. _He's worried I'll say no,_ she realizes with a start, _Which means he really wants me to say yes._ Her stomach swoops and she feels a strange, almost giddy sensation leap through her. He honestly looks apprehensive and she can't believe that, because she's just _her_ and he's all _him._ She cannot remember a time in her life when she felt so safe because she knows that for this little step, he wants it as much as she does. He wants _her_ as much as she wants him. The realization frees her. This is okay, she can just for a second let her guard down. She leans up, tiptoes, rests a hand on his shoulder, lets her breath skate along the side of his neck on her way to murmur in his ear.

"I want to see you _all night._ " She smirks. He swallows convulsively. When she pulls away he looks down at her, all longing and _fire_. He licks his lips again. Fuck. Buoyed with confidence, as she turns away she angles her hand just _so_ and brushes against the front of his trousers. He gasps, jumps at the contact. Serves him right for making her so hot and bothered earlier. It may be a petty victory, but Jyn has never denied being a petty person.

And Bodhi definitely suspects something now, looking up from very deliberately checking his phone when she goes to join him, flicking his eyes between her and Cassian. She hears the green room door open behind her as she walks alongside Bodhi.

"Cassian, if you are quite finished your preliminary mating rituals with Jyn Erso, I really must discuss my next composition with you."

She stumbles and only barely prevents herself from falling flat on her face. Bodhi sputters incredulously before dissolving into a fit of laughter. Cassian lets out a strangled yelp.

"Screw you, Kay!" she shouts back.

"What? No, that's what Cassian wants to do with you," he rebukes with vague disgust, as if the entire topic both bores and repulses him. "I've been studying his behaviour. It's pathetically obvious."

If Jyn gets through the next three years without murdering him, she will _definitely_ have earned a fucking medal.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical references for this chapter:  
> *Jyn is doing J.S. Bach's Prelude and Fugue in C minor (BWV 847) in her second lesson with Baze. I shamelessly stole the notes he gives her from things my teacher wrote on my score for that piece.  
> *Bodhi's practice session doesn't reference enough of the piece he's working on to get overly specific, but I wrote it thinking he was doing Antonio Vivaldi's Cello Concerto in G Major (RV 413). Finding a piece for him to do at the concert took way longer than it should have given how briefly it's mentioned and I'm still not entirely happy with my choice, but it needed to be a very short piece, at an appropriate difficulty level, and not baroque or contemporary because he's already doing one of each (the Vivaldi and the Britten). A balanced rep is a health rep! So he plays one of the pieces from Auguste-Joseph Franchomme's 12 Caprices (op 7).  
> *Also, 1/8 violins are completely adorable and if you can't picture teeny tiny little Jyn running around the house with what basically looks like a toy violin, you are seriously missing out. 
> 
> A huge thanks to my British friends, especially Rich, for providing their invaluable suggestions for British insults while I was trying to get Jyn's voice right. I'm sure my Canadian-ness shows through in places, but that's all on me. Thanks for reading, everyone! This may turn into a series at some point in the future, because this is honestly so much fun to write.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [encore (et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12897486) by [firefeufuego](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefeufuego/pseuds/firefeufuego)
  * [tremulo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15682665) by [firefeufuego](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefeufuego/pseuds/firefeufuego)




End file.
